


Thorns

by imera



Series: High Stakes Word War - prizes [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, Caning, F/M, Puppy Play, Rape, Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imera/pseuds/imera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione is captured, but instead of being killed, Voldemort decides to keep her for his own sadistic pleasures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thorns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [y3llowdaisi3s](https://archiveofourown.org/users/y3llowdaisi3s/gifts).



> The story is set long after the books, the war have been going on for a long time, and Hermione was captured somehow (don't ask how, this story is more of PWP)
> 
> Written for y3llowdasi3s as her prize for beating me at a word war, as well as her birthday present, sorry I'm late.

Hermione sat in the corner of the dark room, her arms curled around her legs, wishing she was still able to cry. She was torn between wishing Voldemort was in the room so she wouldn’t sit in the dark, and wanting him to stay as far away as possible. 

Footsteps were heard outside the room, and instinctively she to push herself further into the wall. The door opened and bright light entered the room, blinding her.

All she saw was the shadow of a man, a monster, because no man could do what he had done and not care. He closed the door and switched the lights on, blinding her even more.

"Come here," he demanded with a cold voice.

Hermione wanted to refuse, she wanted to show him that she was as strong as before, but she was broken, he made sure of that. Slowly she crawled towards him; he demanded she’d crawl faster, and she did.. 

“I thought by now you’d be obedient,” he said. Scared, she wondered what punishment she’d get. She stared directly at him, and a shiver passed through her already tired body. His skin was white, with a pale tint of yellow, it was so thin that she could see several of the blood veins that passed beneath it. Her eyes switched between his snake nose and his red eyes, his murderous eyes.“I think you need caning,” he said with a grin.

Hermione lowered her head while Voldemort went to get the cane. She heard the wooden stick pulled down from the wall. Her body shook slightly when she remembered her earlier caning punishments, and how the wounds stung for days; weeks if he was angry and wanted to really punish her.

“I’m doing this for your own good, you know that, don’t you, dog?” Hermione lowered her head, submitting. In the beginning she was a slave, and could speak, but he decided it gave her too much freedom, so he decided she had to be reduced to an animal. “Five strokes might do it,” he continued. “Count.”

The first blow hit her naked arse before she was able to brace herself. When the worst was over, she barked once. The second blow struck her other cheek, she barked twice. The third blow crossed one of the previous marks, and stung even more. The fourth and fifth stroke crossed all previous blows, tears began to fill up in her eyes as the lines across her bare arse burned.

“Good dog,” Voldemort said softly. She felt no pride by his words, they weren’t meant as an encouragement. “Will you obey me from now on?” Hermione simply nodded, knowing that speaking was worth twenty strokes with the cane.

“I brought you a toy,” Voldemort said and sat down besides Hermione, lifting her head with the cane that was still in her grip.

He turned his eyes from her a short moment while pulling out the new toy. She stared as he pulled out the _’toy’_ , wishing she hadn’t. It was long and round, and decorated with thorns. “Take it with your mouth,” he ordered. Hermione stared at the toy and wondered how much damage the thorns would do to her. “Take it!” he yelled when she still hadn’t moved. Closing her eyes, she leaned down and grabbed the toy with her teeth. The thorns did not cut her at once, instead they dug deeper into her lips and tongue until she felt a faint metallic taste in her mouth. 

“Now, follow me.” She turned her head up towards him, wondering what he planned to do. “If you drop the toy, you’ll be punished.”

Slowly he walked around the room, Hermione following him the best she could.

Because she was unable to close her mouth, or swallow, she began to drool. “Look at you, messing up the floor. Don’t worry, I won’t make you lick it up, I’m not that evil.” Hermione wasn’t sure if he was serious or if he simply wanted to disgust her.

Voldemort walked around the room for several minutes before he wanted to do something else. Without a warning, he grabbed the stick and pulled it out of her mouth, ripping her lips. Blood dripped down her jaw, leaving a red trail before it dripped down on the floor. She wanted to touch the wound, but didn’t move because she knew he would punish her; using her fingers was not doglike.

“Good dog,” he said and let the cane touch her arse. She twitched slightly, fearing he would strike her again. “Stand on two legs,” he ordered. She lifted her upper body up, and hanged her hands in front of her breast, in the way he liked it.

“Good dog,” he repeated. She wish she could say she didn’t care if he was pleased or not, but pleasing him was the only way she could avoid punishment.

“Speak,” he continued. She barked once, hoping it was all he wanted. “Good dog. Now, hold still.” She didn’t know what he planned to do, but doubted it was a good thing. “Hold this,” he said and handed her the thorned toy. “If you drop it you will be punished for being a naughty dog,” Voldemort said and walked behind her. She still didn’t know what he planned to do, but knew it couldn’t be good. She tightened her grip on the thorned toy in case his plan would surprise her.

She was right, he did have a plan, but it failed because she knew he’d try to surprise her into dropping the toy. With the cane, he hit the underside of her feet, making her jump in surprise as well as pain. Blood trickled down her arms as her grip on the toy tightened. The pain from the thorns was drowned by a new blow beneath her feet.

She congratulated herself for being quiet during his test, especially since the pain was almost unbearable towards the end. He walked around Hermione until he was back in front of her, then he asked her to lift her arms, which she did. It didn’t take long before she saw what he had planned. She wanted to beg, or simply shake her head, but that would earn her more punishment.

The cane hit her naked breasts, five times each. Instinct told her to move every time she saw the cane cut through the air, but she continued to stand in front of him with her arms held high. The blood from her palms dripping down her body, leaving a red trail down her body.

“I’m impressed,” he said and let the cane caress her breasts. He reached for the toy in her hands and pulled it from her grip. Unfortunately, the thorns were already deep inside her palms, and pulling them only ripped her skin even more apart. More blood ran down her arms and body, but she didn’t drop them, not until he allowed her.

“I think we’ll play a game.” He backed away and sat down on his chair and stared at her. “Let’s see how long you can keep your arms up.”

Hermione was scared, especially since he didn’t say how long he wanted her to keep her arms up before he might punish her. That fear gave her an extra strenght she didn’t know she had, and she was able to keep her arms up long after they started shaking from exhaustion.

“Impressive,” he said when her arms fell down to her sides. Until he clearly told her she would not be punished, she would not dare to relax. “Lie your upper body down on the floor,” he ordered.

Hermione did as he asked, and lay her face against the floor, her arms resting besides her beaten body. Voldemort stood up and walked around until he was behind her. She didn’t know what he planned to do; maybe he would hit her with the cane again, or whip her, or he might even burn her with a fire spell, like he had done before.

It didn’t take long before she discovered his plan. “What a nice view from this side,” he said and placed himself between her legs. Hermione wanted to fight, but her arms were tired and useless, and she knew that even if she did escape him, he would still rape her, and then punish her for disobeying.

Closing her eyes tightly, she unsuccessfully tried her best to imagine she was somewhere else. His sharp nails scraped against her skin, reminding her he was still there.

Voldemort grabbed her hips and held her in place as he pushed his hard cock into her. A yelp almost escaped her, luckily she managed to bite her tongue and kill the sound. “Tell me how much you hate this,” Voldemort requested as he thrusted his cock into Hermione.

Hermione tried to hold in her tears while her body grinded against the floor every time he trusted his cock into her. “Tell me, bitch,” he demanded, digging his nails into her hips. Her throat was dry and sore, but she managed to bark once. She knew he was excited when he started hissing behind her like a snake. “More,” he demanded before continuing the hissing. Hermione barked almost every time he thrusted his long cock into her, knowing she was doing something right since his hisses increased in strength.

He grabbed her right shoulder and let his hand run down her back, digging his nails so deep that she wouldn’t be surprised if her back was bleeding. Hermione wanted to scream, but closed her mouth so it sounded more like a whimper, opening only to please him by barking.

“Yes,” he hissed loudly and held her tight against himself, rubbing his hips against her arse as he came deep inside her. Tears flooded down her face as he pulled out of her. He ignored her and walked towards the door. She didn’t try to get up from the floor, because he hadn’t told her she could, but also because she didn’t think she was able to.

Without a word, Voldemort turned off the light and left the room. Hermione continued to cry, blood taste in her mouth from her ripped lip, her hands sticking together because of the dry blood, and her arse still in the air, because she was too tired to move.


End file.
